"LEAVES ARE BUT WINGS ON WHICH THE SUMMER FLIES, AND EACH THING PERISHABLE FADES AND DIES,

ESCAPED IN THOUGHT: BUT POETS' THINKINGS BE LIKE OVERFLOWS OF IMMORTALITY."-THOMAS HOOD.

"LOOK HOW THE LARK SOARS UPWARD AND IS GONE, TURNING A SPIRIT AS HE NEARS THE SKY (HOOD)

HIS VOICE IS HEARD, BUT BODY THERE IS NONE TO FIX THE VAGUE EXCURSIONS OF THE EYE."-T. HOOD.

GOLD.

"Auri sacra fames."

JOLD! Gold! Gold! Gold !

Bright and yellow, hard and cold,
Molten, graven, hammered, and rolled;

Heavy to get, and light to hold;
Hoarded, bartered, bought, and sold,
Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled:
Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old
To the very verge of the churchyard mould;
Price of many a crime untold;
Gold! Gold! Gold! Gold !
Good or bad a thousand-fold!
How widely its agencies vary-

To save to ruin-to curse-to bless-
As even its minted coins express,

Now stamped with the image of Good Queen Bess,
And now of a Bloody Mary!

[From the narrative poem, serio-comic in character, and not less remarkable for its wit and truth than for its apt imagery and flowing versification, of "Miss Kilmansegg and her Precious Leg."]

THE GORGEOUS FANE OF SUMMER THAT IS FLED!"-HOOD.

"POETS' SONGS ARE WITH US, THOUGH THEY DIE OBSCURED, AND HID BY DEATH'S OBLIVIOUS SHROUD;

LOVE IS ITS OWN GREAT LOVELINESS ALWAY,-(THOMAS HOOD)

THOMAS HOOD.

THE CLOUD AND THE SUNSHINE.

JAREWELL, Life! my senses swim,

And the world is growing dim :
Thronging shadows cloud the light,

Like the advent of the night-
Colder, colder, colder still,
Upward steals a vapour chill;
Strong the earthy odour grows—
I smell the mould above the rose!

Welcome, Life! the Spirit strives!
Strength returns and hope revives;
Cloudy fears and shapes forlorn
Fly like shadows at the morn,—
O'er the earth there comes a bloom;
Sunny light for sullen gloom,
Warm perfume for vapour cold—

I smell the rose above the mould!

[These stanzas were written in April 1845, a month before the poet's death.]

AND EARTH INHERITS THE RICH MELODY, LIKE RAINING MUSIC FROM THE MORNING CLOUD."--HOOD.

FLOWERS.

WILL not have the mad Clytie,
Whose head is turned by the sun;
The tulip is a courtly quean,

Whom, therefore, I will shun;

* A water-nymph who fell in love with Apollo, but, as her passion was not reciprocated, was changed into a sun-flower, and keeps her face ever turned, it is said, towards the orb of day throughout its diurnal course. This, however, is not botanically true.

AND TAKES NEW LUSTRE FROM THE TOUCH OF TIME."-HOOD.

"OH, 'TIS A TOUCHING THING, TO MAKE ONE WEEP, A TENDER INFANT WITH ITS CURTAINED EYE,-(HOOD)

THE SUNNIEST THINGS THROW STERNEST SHADE,

FLOWERS.

197

BREATHING AS IT WOULD NEITHER LIVE NOR DIE WITH THAT UNCHANGING COUNTENANCE OF SLEEP."-HOOD.

The pea is but a wanton witch,
In too much haste to wed,
And clasps her rings on every hand;
The wolfsbane I should dread;
Nor will I dreary rosemarye,
That always mourns the dead;-
But I will woo the dainty rose,
With her cheeks of tender red.

* 66
"Rosemary-that's for remembrance."-Shakespeare.

E'EN HAPPINESS MAKES THE HEART AFRAID."-HOOD.

198

"THERE IS ENOUGH OF SORROWING, AND QUITE (T. HOOD)

THOMAS HOOD.

The lily is all in white, like a saint,

And so is no mate for me

And the daisy's cheek is tipped with a blush,

She is of such low degree;

Jasmine is sweet, and has many loves,
And the broom's betrothed to the bee;—
But I will plight with the dainty rose,

For fairest of all is she.*

[From "Hood's Poems," ed. Moxon, 1855.]

"THE WORLD HAS MANY CRUEL POINTS, WHEREBY OUR BOSOMS HAVE BEEN TORN,-(HOOD)

S

RUTH.

HE stood breast high amid the corn,
Clasped by the golden light of morn,
Like the sweetheart of the sun,
Who many a glowing kiss had won.

On her cheek an autumn flush,
Deeply ripened;—such a blush
In the midst of brown was born,
Like red poppies grown with corn.
Round her eyes her tresses fell,—
Which were blackest none could tell :
But long lashes veiled a light
That had else been all too bright.

And her hat, with shady brim,
Made her tressy forehead dim ;—
Thus she stood amid the stooks,
Praising God with sweetest looks :-

* James Montgomery says, however,

"The rose has but a summer reign,

The daisy never dies."

ENOUGH OF BITTER FRUITS THE EARTH DOTH BEAR. -HOOD.

AND THERE ARE DAINTY THEMES OF GRIEF, IN SADNESS TO OUTLAST THE MORN."-HOOD.